97 | ticket; an enemy to kill

Nora had felt death in the marrows of her bone. She felt herself splitting into letters, watched the horror of her body coming undone in chunks of words that she couldn't decipher.

She'd been a little sad, of course, being a person who direly wanted to live.

But another part of her had been relieved, satisfied with seeing Lucas' safe return mere moments before her death.

No more struggling, no more crying over the ghost of her little brother. No more lamenting her weakness, the utter lack of strength in her arms and legs that made her a burden.

Then she saw the darkness spilling into Lucas' gaze, a dull, faded sheen that had been already witness to too much death.

Nora thought she would persist longer, to save that man who'd been her companion since the beginning of the End's Delusion.

The man who lost his older sibling, while she lost her younger.

She remembered that then, having forgotten somewhere in between for reasons she didn't understand. That Lucas Silvius was a little brother. And even while he displayed a mature facade, a simmering violence beneath his calm, there were times he was immature.

When he cursed out Elias, with petty tricks or words that only made the other's tongue sharper, more irritating.

When he acted worn out with the children who loved his attention, but couldn't help but indulge in their wants and playing. It was funny, sometimes, seeing how he fit in perfectly among the hospital kids.

It had been a genuine tragedy, the Sleeping Beauty Story.

Lucas had changed, hope chipping away at him piece by piece, at that time.

But whatever Nora thought didn't matter. After all, she had lost do to her own inability and weakness, her Title sacrificed, and her existence nothing but black letters on the ground.

She was dying, dead. Regrets would only fade along with the memory of her.

She felt in the pocket of her light jacket moments before disappearing, a slip of paper brushing past her fingers. She had paused, numbly confused.

Her pockets should've been empty.

Then she remembered—a ticket. She'd given it to Lucas, but she was the rightful owner to it. A ticket... for what? To what?

Her mind spun, but it couldn't outrun the darkness that chased after.

Nora Nilsen died.

And she opened her eyes again.

Perched over her body with inquisitive eyes was a young, tired appearing boy. A silver necklace with a delicate apple pendant gleamed around his neck.

"A companion of his." muttered the child, a tone unsuited to his youth.

She blinked, wide-eyed at the blinding space around her, a canvas of white that flickered with a translucent sheen of rainbow shades. She realized that a young girl laid over the boy's back, her arms loosely looped over his neck.

However, he showed no signs of tire or letting go. It seemed more of an exhaustion to the world.

"How lucky you are. Although luck is also a talent, a skill." The boy stood up, gently shuffling the girl on his back into a more comfortable position. Her eyes were open, glazed and unseeing.

Beautiful black curls framed her face, dressed in a light dress that flowed gracefully around her. Her feet were bare, and skin paler than snow.

When Nora's vision refocused, she noticed that the boy bore a striking resemblance to the girl on his back.

"Come on, now. The clock is ticking." Despite his warning, his words remained patient. Nora felt a sense of comfort around the child of mysterious origins.

He turned and started on the endless path. Nora blinked, and hurriedly stood up, following after. Was this another game after death, a heaven or hell? Regardless, she was alive as she ever could be.

The boy paused, turning his solemn face sideways.

"I forgot." He lifted his hand, fingers spread, palm waiting. "Your ticket?"

Nora glanced around, confused. "To where?"

"It doesn't really matter where if you have no ticket. If you have it, please give it to me, and if you don't, it seems there's been a mistake. I'll return you to death immediately."

"And if I don't want to die?"

He blinked slowly, and shook his head. "That's beyond my control."

Nora took a gamble at the idea in her mind. "You're a Teller, aren't you?"

"If I am, that doesn't change my answer. Tellers may be your harbingers of doom, but we're just fools trapped in the same Delusion as you." He tilted is head. "All fools. Some have become drunk on the false premise of power."

Seeing as Nora didn't speak or move, he squatted down on the ground, evidently bored. He grumbled a little. "I thought I should've disappeared—it's likely because I wanted to fade that I wasn't allowed to. How annoying."

Nora couldn't help but relax her shoulders in front of the complaining child. She crouched down, and smiled. "You were supposed to disappear?"

"A violent delinquent stormed through my Story and found the True Ending." The boy pouted, some immaturity seeping into his gaunt face. "I hold no grudge, don't be mistaken. I'm quite thankful to him."

"Who?"

The boy looked up quietly. "A friend of yours. I suspect he's doing fairly poorly now. Endless death does that to people, you see."

Nora had been smiling, amused by the formal speech of the child, but the smile soon faded. She knew in a moment, who could leave such an impression on a Teller, who had been witness to an endless cycle of death.

"Lucas." She breathed and the boy nodded. She stood up quickly, spinning her head left and right. "Let's go. This is an opportunity, right? I'll do it, I'll do whatever it takes."

"So much determination for a stranger you've known less than a year?"

"...it's not only him I'd like to return to. I find, dying would be a salvation to me. An easy escape. But I'm tired of being a burden, of holding people back even in my death. I want to help them, just once."

The boy observed her in silence, shuffling the dazed girl on his back. She hung limply, like a shell of what she once was.

He raised his hand out again, palm open.

"Your ticket, Nora Nilsen."

She frowned to say that she didn't have one, before recalling the feel of dry paper against her fingers before death. Hurriedly, she rummaged in the pockets of her light jacket, grasping onto a thin slip.

She pulled it out, staring in surprise. The ticket, the one she won at the very beginning, the one that was linked to Elias.

Elias.

For her sake, he wouldn't reply and aid her at all. She was already dead, a distant memory he didn't need to worry about.

But if what the boy spoke about Lucas was true, then she would definitely get a response. She gambled on the depth of that man's feelings for Lucas.

"Do you have a pen?"

The boy didn't show any surprise at her abrupt question, and instead snapped his fingers to hand her a black pen. He said nothing more, waiting for her next move.

Nora's hand flew across the paper, ink printing elegant swoops of handwriting.

'Elias.' She wrote. 'Can you read this?'

She waited, and when no response came, she directly sat down on the ground. "There's no time limit to give you my ticket, right?"

The boy regarded her before calmly sitting beside, cross-legged. "If you have a ticket, then I can't send you back. That's the rule."

In other words, he was indirectly saying he would wait, however long it took. Because really, for a child that had expected death and the freedom that came along with it, he had no interest in continuing the End's Delusions sick games.

He arranged the little girl to sit beside him, though her back slumped and her head lolled to the side like a broken doll.

Nora stared at the paper, and then over at the boy. "I'm sorry if it's personal, but might I ask who she is?"

The boy lifted his head, the thick ravens curls brushing his somber gaze. Suddenly, he smiled, a soft smile reserved for those who asked about his most precious family.

"She's my sister. My only sister."

"And her name?"

His smile fell slightly, turning bitter. "I can't remember it anymore. Here, she was named Snow White. Here, she suffered all over again, because of my selfish wish to bring her back. I'm not stupid—I know the body I'm holding is hardly alive. But this is all that's left."

His eyes, round and youthful, pierced through Nora. "Do not wish for the dead to come back to life. Do not make a wish that is selfish. The End's Delusion will grant it, but it will not be the way you desire."

"The Forsaken Throne can grant any wish of your making. But be warned. It sounds idealistic, because it is. What I'm living in, it feels like a dream I can't wake from. My sister is alive in the only way she could be, but it cannot be called living. I can't be called living."

"...can you tell me anything else?"

The white space around them suddenly seemed surreal, spanning over time and space. The boy who sat beside his sister's shell seemed to fade slightly, a ghost sitting next to her.

"I can." He said finally, in a quiet voice. "There's nothing holding me back anymore. We have a long ride ahead when we embark."

"Embark on what?"

"It's whatever you imagine it to be. A train, an airplane, a bus. More importantly, Nora Nilsen, I believe you've received a response."

The woman spun her head to the paper, grasped tightly within fingers.

'Considering that stubborn sponge won't speak to me nowadays, there's only one person this can be. I wonder, how did you survive death, Nora?'

She could sense the irritation through the bold strokes of pen, leaving indents of anger in the paper. Elias' mood was a reflection of Lucas' state—it couldn't be anything good. To that man, kind in ways most didn't realize, suffer due to her death?

Lucas. A stranger, to a saviour, a person to rely on during the madness and violence of the recent times. She was beyond grateful.

Her fingers curled around the paper more tightly.

'I'm not sure myself,' she replied honestly. 'Can you tell Lucas that I'm alive?'

A pause, and then a response came languidly. 'I won't.'

She felt a slip of anxiety—worry that she'd continue being a burden. If news of her life could relieve Lucas' pain even slightly...

'Why? Wouldn't my living bring comfort to him? Isn't that what you desire? Or did you want the pieces left of him when he falls into depravity, did you want to win and feel success in seeing him lose all hope?'

'Hitting where it hurts, hm? Don't be mistaken, Nora, I stopped wanting to witness his failure long ago. But where are you? And can you guarantee your return? Tell me, Nora, what can you due with your barely passing use of guns, and fear of the apocalypse?'

The words faded as soon as Nora read them, continuing.

'Do you want me to tell him you're alive, and have you die twice in his mind when you don't return?'

Nora's shoulders slumped in realization, breathing softly. She had been too hasty, and selfish too. She hadn't considered anything thoroughly, desperate to not become a burden even after death.

Her fingers curled and she closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. This was the weakness of hers, scared of being a burden, hating her weakness.

She wasn't as empathetic as Lucas, or tenacious as Elias. She wasn't as strong as Elliot, or even determined as Rome, who devoted himself entirely to the man who saved him. She wasn't as loyal as Sylvia, or powerful as Wren.

She was Nora Nilsen, a student at a university she still had years to graduate from, with marksmanship that could aim, certainly, but do nothing else.

She was Nora Nilsen, whom a stranger met during the End's Delusion deeply mourned.

And,

'I will return alive.'

She would not falter anymore.

'Please wait for me, Elias. Thank you.'

The words printed on the paper didn't disappear this time, and she received no response. But it didn't matter, she knew the man had read it, and that was all that mattered.

The boy stared at her, and she smiled. He opened his palms again, and this time, she placed the ticket into the soft, and skinny flesh of the child's.

Slowly, he warned, "I can't promise you'll be able to come back. Death may be the simpler option, free of struggling. You have the blessing of dying a normal death, should you choose."

Nora laughed softly. A blessing of death. And to think she felt a little tempted, tired of fighting and loathing herself all this time.

"Do you have a name?" she asked instead of replying.

"Hunter." The boy said. "I don't like it."

"Then what name would you choose if you could be anybody?"

The boy considered the question solemnly. He didn't favour his name given by his mother, doting as she was towards him when her mood suited. The question shuffled, rearranging.

What name would he choose, if he could be anybody? Or, who would he be, if he could become anybody?

The boy, Hunter, decided he rather admired that adult who patted his head.

"Lucas."

Nora widened her eyes in slight surprise, before smiling gently. "Well then, Lucas. I'm actually terrified. And it would be easier to run away. But I can't, not anymore. This is something I can do, so I'll do it."

The boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. Helping his sister onto his back again, he looped the limp arms around his neck securely and started walking.

Nora followed closely behind as they passed floating sentences, wavering lines of black text that slowly became clearer. Before she realized it, she was walking inside a subway line, one that she often used to commute. She recognized the ads on the interior.

"This is..."

"Keep walking. This isn't our cart."

She glanced around at the words curiously. Squinting, she tried to make our the blurry letters that were slowly forming.

[For the end of this tale, no happy ending existed.]

To her right, another sentence formed. And another, and another.

[Darling Aurora, who fell into an eternal slumber by the spindle's curse.]

[Cinderella, in her rags and beauty, longing for the deceased.]

[Oh tragic Snow White, and the hunter who wanted to save, and not reap.]

"This is...?" said Nora again, feeling like a broken record, but she was filled with confusion. The boy glanced over, frowning at one of the lines of text.

"The End Delusion has bad taste. Ignore it. It's all useless. They're stories that'll never be read, the secrets written between lines. Even if you read those lines, you'll hardly know half of the story. Barely graze the surface of the characters."

The more Nora attempted to read the words, everything became startling clear. More than just black lines floating in the air, she saw images through the train windows.

A man kneeling, blood dripping down his forehead and onto the ground, at the foot of an ominous black throne. His sorrow was so deep and penetrating that Nora sucked in a breath, her heart constricting.

Then, a beautiful princess in a deep coma, surrounded by people who loved her. Oppositely, a wretched and bony woman hunched nearby, her bulging eyes bloodshot and somber. Blood cut her bare feet.

Nora wondered, what was the story between the two, how they could appear in such different states?

The scenes outside the train changed again, moving as if taking one step outside would lead to the image.

There was a young girl dressed in rags, with cinder coating her nose, as she clutched a rotting corpse in her arms, laughing and crying.

And then, there was another girl, carved from the purest jade, with snow white skin and hair like ebony...

"Look away!" snapped the boy suddenly as Nora watched in horror, the vivid sight of violation and abuse that suddenly twisted through the image.

She raised a shuddering hand to her mouth and the boy held onto his sister more tightly. "Keep walking." He said once more, but it was less of a suggestion. "The scene you need to witness is not this. The enemy you will face is not them."

He stopped at the door to the last cart, cold eyes glancing back.

"Nora Nilsen. You have been provided the Ticket of Redemption. To what extent do you wish to live? Should you succeed, you will not only be granted knowledge, but a second chance is life. Whether that is a blessing or a curse."

Nora felt dread like heavy weights in her heel, pressing her firmly to the ground. However, she forced herself to drag her body to the clear window that separating her and whatever was behind.

The boy, Hunter—or Lucas as he wished to be, stepped aside.

And sitting patiently on the other side, hands folded into his lap as he dressed in a polite school uniform, was a young boy.

Nora's pupils shook. A familiar face to hers, only softer, younger, and eyes a touch more down turned and gentle. A patient air that surrounded, as he slowly turned his head.

Hunter calmly stated,

"What you see is the enemy you need to kill."

———xxx———

Note from Lukiyo:

Thanks for your patience and support! I am eternally grateful, to the ends of time! The next few chapters will be a dive into what Nora experienced, and what she saw.

I hope you are having the most magical of days <3